


Cold

by MercurialNight



Category: Undertale
Genre: Comfort, Family, Fluff, Gen, Not really shippy but maybe if you squint?, mostly just a cute lil drabble
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-15
Updated: 2017-08-15
Packaged: 2018-12-15 13:59:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11807391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MercurialNight/pseuds/MercurialNight
Summary: Sans discovering that young humans are fragile and apparently blizzards aren't good for them. Frisk learning how to keep warm on the inside, too.T rating is merely for language because I like to write Sans with a dirty mouth and a Jersey dialect.





	Cold

Well, this hadn't been on the agenda today. In fact, this was the last thing they needed while trying to get into town. Cutting through the whipping wind of another sudden blizzard (good ole Snowdin, huh?), Sans's only complaint was that the torrent of snow made it tough to see where he was going. But whatever. He shrugged it off and kept on truckin—until he felt a couple of tiny hands snatch the back of his coat, and a weight ram into his back.

"Hn? Whatcha doin, kid?"

Frisk was clinging to the back of his jacket, face buried in the fabric. The kid was vibrating or something. Teeth clackin together and everything. From the way their weight had hit him, it felt like they had tripped into him, and now they sure as hell weren't moving anywhere. Somethin wrong with their feet? Sans tried to turn around for a better look, but Frisk was huddled against his back and wouldn't let go. He…wasn't sure what to do about this.

"Uh. Is this some kinda…human custom, or whatever? Cuz I gotta tell ya it's pretty weird."

Frisk's small voice answered shakily, "…cold."

"Yeh? Snow c'n get that way."

"Hurts."

Cold...hurts? Sans had no idea. He knew that for some monsters, the cold was uncomfortable, but he'd never heard of anyone getting hurt by it. Guess humans could get too cold? Uh...was that bad? Damn it—she would know. Humans were so fragile; how was he supposed to keep up with it all? 'Look after them' she says. That ain't so easy, lady.

"Is that why you're shakin like a dang maraca?"

Frisk whimpered into the fabric of his coat and Sans wondered why the kid didn't have one of those—a coat—if being cold mattered so much. You'd think a couple of human parents would've taken care of that. Huh. For cryin' out loud, Sans didn't even need one—skeletons could get as cold as they want and be just peachy. He just liked it was all. But Frisk was shivering miserably without one.

"Alright. C'mere, sunshine."

Sans reached back and pried the child off of his back. Frisk sniffled and, just for a moment, looked up at him with the saddest set of eyes he'd damn near ever seen. He winced as he unzipped the coat. "Break a guy's heart, why don't ya?" he muttered as he removed it, and revealed a broad cage of ribs, a jagged spine, plates where his shoulders should be...his bones were so white they nearly vanished among the driven snow. They were much thicker than they had always imagined skeletons to be-rickety like Halloween, or rattling as they hung in a science classroom.

Frisk's eyes grew as wide as he'd ever seen 'em, staring at his bones. Sans only chuckled as he knelt down and tossed the jacket around them. "Well what'd you think was under there? A beer gut?"

Frisk eagerly snuggled into the coat. It hung so big on such a tiny body. They wrapped up in it until Sans could only see the top of a little face poking out of the puffy fur. Damn. Could a thing in the universe be any cuter than that?

"Heh…heh-chu!"

…Yup. I mean sure that was probably a sign of some human sickness brought on by the cold and he oughta get right on that, but fuck if it wasn't the most adorable thing a kid had ever done. Sans laughed aloud, much to the confusion of his young companion. Sans shook his head, still laughing.

"Aw, man. It's nothin. Ay, maybe we oughta get ya someplace that ain't gonna hurtcha." He turned around, kneeling, and cupped his hands behind his back. "All aboard, kiddo. Easy on the upholstery, just had it waxed."

Frisk hesitated, reaching out toward his stark shoulder blades. Their hand hovered over the pale bone for a moment, then slowly grabbed hold. It was just smooth…that was all. They didn't know what else they had expected. Frisk pulled theirself up onto Sans's back, shuddering at the feeling of his bumpy spine against their chest.

Sans stood up with a brisk "hup!" and walked on, his slippered feet driving through the snow with an urgency that hadn't been there before. "Hang in there. We're not far from the house. Hope you're not sick of spaghetti yet, cuz Pap's convinced it's all humans eat."

Frisk stared at the back of Sans's head, pulling up the hood of his coat onto their own. This was...strange. The slight swaying motion, the feeling of moving forward by someone else's strength… It wasn't like Frisk's daydreams—what she had imagined it would be like to ride piggyback on mom or dad. No heat radiated from his skeletal body, no soft skin to snuggle up against. Somehow, though, Frisk didn't need all that. Because, actually…this was better. Sans's bones felt safe, solid, and Frisk felt that it would be so easy to stay there, that they weren't going to fall. Again.

Sans felt the hands on his shoulders grip tighter, and Frisk's forehead nuzzle against the base of his skull. "Hey…How ya doin' back there, kid?" he tested, with masked concern in his voice.

Frisk smiled as they wiped their eyes, sniffling now not from the weather. Wrapping their arms tightly around Sans's neck, they whispered, "Warm."


End file.
